


weightless

by masaomi



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kissing, Tada, also a crappy ending and no real plot, dont expect much i just wanted to finish it, is slaine in love wit lemrina??? asseylum?????? i dunno and neither does this fic, there's nothing to this tbh i wrote it when i was Emo, uhh spoilers for the end, will i always work some form of shitty ring composition into everything i write??? yeah probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masaomi/pseuds/masaomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Lemrina’s lips press onto Slaine’s, and he thinks maybe this is how black holes form - an unfortunate amalgam of explosive elements and bad luck." </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	weightless

Lemrina’s lips press onto Slaine’s, and he thinks maybe this is how black holes form - an unfortunate amalgam of explosive elements and bad luck. 

He knows what she’s about to do a second before she collides with him, drawing the soft huff of air from his mouth and shocking the activation factor into his veins. 

Slaine doesn’t think much of it, doesn’t need to think much of it, as the princess draws her head back, tilts it, and looks unaffected. 

_“Good hunting, Sir Slaine Troyard.”_

And that, he supposes, was that. 

\---

Except, of course, it wasn’t. 

\---

The footsteps of Eddelrittuo and Harklight fade away quickly as the princess dismisses them; the muted patters of regulation footwear disappear down the hallway as Slaine furrows his brow in confusion. 

“Princess, I do not understand.” Lemrina peers up at him and motions that he lower his head. Hesitantly, Slaine bends further to enter her line of sight. 

“Please, Your Highness, there is nothing I do not trust Harklight to hea–” 

This time, Slaine was perfectly unaware of Lemrina’s intent until her lips were on his, eliciting a red hue from the count and a soft smirk from the princess. 

This kiss is longer, deeper. Hand sliding up Slaine’s arm, Lemrina curves upward in her chair. 

\---

A pattern emerges. 

They kiss in low-gravity environments the most, Slaine realizes after a while. A subconscious decision, he decides. Lemrina looks most whole here. She can present the image of perfect health, of steady legs and strengthened muscles. It’s easier for their lips to meet and the variable of the wheelchair becomes irrelevant. 

Slaine knows he’s fractured inside, with every evil he’s committed (in the name of survival) etched into his bones. Some days, it seems like the affection is all that chains him to his sanity. Lemrina is as much his escape as he is hers. 

But, god, neither of them _care_ anymore. 

He watches the princess twirl in the air, free from the constraint of gravity, hair glinting under the harsh lights. Pushing up from the ground, Slaine catches her around the middle and spins her around.

“Why, how romantic of you, Count Troyard,” She presses her forehead to his and touches his lips with one finger. “And how _presumptuous._ ” Lemrina’s hands are on the back of Slaine’s head now, pushing him into the kiss. 

The kiss is like one of his blue roses; the love is impossible and only a shallow beauty hides the thorns.

\---

Slaine does not kiss her in the room with Asseylum’s medical tank. He can see their dysfunctional relationship in the air all about the ship, and he refuses to taint one sanctuary of tubes and prescriptions and damn, _damn, never-ending lifelessness._

This is Asseylum’s dominion, and Slaine may have let corruption and impurity convolute all other aspects of his existence, but he will not allow it here. 

\--- 

There’s not much to do in jail – Inaho’s visits are the only mental stimulation he receives. Sliding down the prison wall, handcuffs clinking, Slaine stares at the grain of the stone and presses his fingers to his lips. 

Memories, phantom touches, colors of purple and gold and white flash through his mind, too fast to be analyzed. 

Slaine is tired of self-scrutiny, in any case. 

He is tired, and she is never returning. He has lost, and he has _lost._

Light streams in from the small circular window, placed directly in the middle of the ceiling. Dust particles float in and out of Slaine’s vision, miniscule specks drifting aimlessly, with no regard to gravity. 

_She is gone. You are alone._

And that, Slaine supposes, was that.

**Author's Note:**

> heyo. visit me at hidyoshi.tumblr.com OR on twit @m_asaomi. cry about slaine's lost potential with me. boy deserved better. 
> 
> im gonna work on writing better i promise sorry.


End file.
